Update:No shit, who do you think helped him be so good at it?
Nancy Pelosi, damn your useless hide!
When you swept to power - well maybe not swept, more like a shuffle really - the democratic hopeful thought you’d be the savior, the leader of the vast left-wing conspiracy’s triumphant return to power. The champagne ran like beer at a Crawford picnic as you fiddled with the House gavel like it was a prized dildo. And you should know, you’ve been sucking down long, cool drafts of the Beer that Made Crapweasels FamousTM ever since.
I’ve been keeping tabs on your career as Speaker of the House of Wax and I must say your failures are Bush-like in their breath-taking crapulence. In fact, if you didn’t cover your Adam’s apple with those scarves, I’d swear you were George in drag. But it was your first big decision that’s turned out to stain your reputation beyond repair - taking impeachment “off the table”.
Despite your rumored - but rarely seen - political acumen, you broke the cardinal rule that you never tell your foes what you may do next. You cleared the table and Bush and his merry band of rubber stampers sat down for a roast constitution feast served up by the most cowardly cast of Congresspussies in American history. Almost from the beginning, you failed to make even the meekest attempt to reign the conniving bastard in. In fact, whenever one of your fellow zombies got brave enough to question his majesty - even a little - you were Josephina on the spot to make sure nothing came of it.
It’s been a long time since my last anger-filled screed. This unexpected development isn’t because there are no more topics worthy of long and vicious screeds, it’s because I’m feeling a little like a ripple wimpily expending itself on the placid shores of a pond. It’s hard to get all worked up when the crapstorms fly at you faster than a thick swarm of killer bees stinging the ass of a nudist. So, it’s time to apply a little WD-40 to the snarky joints and get back in the swing of things.
Be kind, I’m rusty.
Not everything that happens to Barak Obama is about racism.
Not everything that happens to John McCain is about being a war hero.
Not everything that happens to Hillary Clinton is about sexism.
“Experience” has little to do with all three.
“Experience” has even less to do with Emperor Asshat’s crapulent performance either.
When Stephen Colbert coined the term “truthiness“, he hit the nail on the head as it applies to our Barney Fife administration. The Great Flip-Flopper sends his PR minions to spin corrections to stories and statements so often, they can “truthifully” claim they did or didn’t say something as it suits them. The spinning doesn’t only apply to press releases though, official records haven’t been kept or “lost” by the millions. They have a similar problem with revealing anything other than name, rank, and serial number to investigations or media questions.
Over the course of our nation’s eight year descent into hell, many a pundit and WH gossip has speculated about how George’s legacy will stack up against history. Some think he’s a misunderstood genius who’ll simultaneously supplant Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson as the light of historical perspective illuminates his flowing, angelic robes. Others figure he’s an idiot savant who’ll put Warren G. Harding’s bottom-dwelling position in serious jeopardy. Either way, Lil’ Dub has used the lard bucket of truthiness so often almost nothing about his administration can be conclusively proven beyond a shadow of a doubt - certainly one thing that keeps impeachment at arm’s length.
This seems an odd result considering the rainforest-destroying number of books written about the jughead, but look closely and you’ll see that many of the books are based on recollections and recalcitrant witnesses with any number of axes to grind. The official public records the books cite are heavily edited or redacted at best and spun like a dervish at a hula-hoop convention at worst. Historians will need something more to go on. You know, unadulterated diaries, letters, email, or records that should have been retained under various federal laws? But George’s penchant for keeping everything secret - including Barney’s undisclosed location - cuts against him. With no unambiguous proof one way or another, his legacy will be based on the potentially bad juju handed down by contemporary authors projected against the public fiascoes we do know the details of.
It’s sad that future generations may not be able to learn all the cautionary lessons of the Bushonian era. What they do see will be stained by truthiness as George and his apologists spin it. The minutia of day-to-day governmental operation will have evaporated into the ether and we’ll probably never know how many of his fiascoes really played out behind the scenes. Still, the truthy mash-up he has left will give a relative, though incomplete, accounting of his legacy.
I’m confident that record will be enough to see him as the crapweasel he is.
Nancy Pelosi, damn your useless hide!
It’s been a long time since my last anger-filled screed. This unexpected development isn’t because there are no more topics worthy of long and vicious screeds, it’s because I’m feeling a little like a ripple wimpily expending itself on the placid shores of a pond. It’s hard to get all worked up when the crapstorms fly at you faster than a thick swarm of killer bees stinging the ass of a nudist. So, it’s time to apply a little 
When 
